Time plays tricks. Watched, it plods, a donkey in the desert sun, mocking those who would urge it to progress faster. Time forgotten becomes the racehorse, kicking up its heels and hurtling by. Do I manage time? How can such a wily trickster be controlled?  When does time-management become a euphemism for procrastination?

It’s done. It took far too long, but at last, I can say ‘It is done.’ The torment is over. I have blurbed, for the first time.